


Zenyatta Shorts

by WinterSorceress



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Coffee Shops, Gen, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Outdoor Sex, Robot Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 10:30:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11667303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterSorceress/pseuds/WinterSorceress
Summary: A series of shorts written for the birthday of a best friend. Mostly resolving around Zenyatta, her favorite character, and severa of her favorite ships. Only one short is NSFW. Includes platonic omnic relationships, Zendatta, Doomyatta, and Genyatta.





	1. Australia

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lacertae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lacertae/gifts).



> Happy birthday, Fran! <3

It had happened so fast.

All Orisa could recall was landing for a risky mission deep in the Australian Outback. Their stay wasn’t supposed to be a long one, due to the radiation and countless outlaws. She and her fellows omnics were especially at risk, due to the deep anti-omnic sentiment among the Junkers.

That may have been why they were ambushed and separated from the rest of their team. It had been near dusk when it happened, figures falling upon their retreat in the dark, punctuated by excited, manical laughter as well as gun fire and chaos. She may have only been a youngster, but she knew enough to understand why she, Bastion, and Zenyatta had been targeted in particular.

However, the Junkers were the fools to attempt to kidnap them. The OR-15 didn’t even want to try to process what they may have been planning for them. Instead, she put her foot down, several of them, and gladly sent their attackers flying once she at last recovered her sense. Her brothers too struggled, despite how dazed they still seemed, but her desperation rang true in them both, encouraging and inspiring them to act.  

Blindly, the trio fled into the dusky wilderness. Orisa led the way with near abandon, terrified, hoping she would not lose her slower comrades. Looking back, she realized Bastion had taken the liberty of scooping up the younger monk. It was a clumsy, jarring ride, but it kept them together.

Strange creatures howled in the smothering heat of the night, urging them on until, at last, the bots came upon the closest thing that could considered shelter. A rocky ridge rose in the distance, dotted with crevices and holes. At once, it became their goal.

“At last, sanctuary!” Zenyatta sighed, looking a bit worse for wear. “I was starting to get dust in my circuits. Ah, I think you can...you can put me down now, Bastion. Thank you for the lift, my friend.”

The Bastion unit complied, gently lowering the former Shambali to the ground; it was almost amusing how much smaller he was compared to them. “Dah-dah weeeee!” he chimed in agreement.

Despite their brief chatter, they knew better than to relax. Together, they trudged on in silence, sensors alert for danger. In such an open landscape, there was much to hear, eerie, lurking beasts and the faint, constant commotion of Junker camps. If they discovered their hiding place, they would surely have a fight on their hands, and not one they were guaranteed to win.

Approaching the rocky outcrop, Orisa was the first to investigate, as her older brothers hung behind anxiously, always on the lookout. Deep in concentration, she sought the safest position for them to occupy for the night, until they could manage to contact the others once more. So deep in no-man’s land, their signals were feeble at best, diluted by the poisoned atmosphere here.

“Ah! This hollow in the rock seems suitable!” she declared, optics lighting up with delight and pride. She couldn’t help but hop in the place, excited by their change in fortune.

“Excellent work, my sister!” Zenyatta praised, clasping his hands together in relief. Curiously, he ducked inside to give it his own analysis. It was only a few seconds before he emerged once more. “It’s clear. Nothing dwells within and it’s spacious and watertight.”

“But Zenyatta, my database suggests rainfall in this location only occurs once every three years at most.”

“Ah, but one can never be too careful. If there’s anything I learned from my travels, the only thing worse than this horrible heat, it’s a humid heat; it really does a number on my systems.”

“Dun dun boop boop-boop boop bwoo,” urged Bastion, eager to work on reestablishing contact with their base.

Surprised by his comrade’s urgency, the monk remembered their mission. “Oh yes, of course. Let’s get settled. You two first, now. I don’t need as much room after all.”

Taking an uncertain step into the hole, Orisa glanced back, tilting her head slightly. “Are you sure, Zenyatta?”

“Absolutely. I’ll be fine.”

With that, the larger omnics filed in with care, arranging themselves neatly, with what comfort they could find. The OR-15 settled down on all fours while the oldest plopped down heavily beside her, beeping wearily. Lastly, the monk found his place between them, folding his legs serenely.

“Yes, this is a very nice arrangement,” he murmured, surveying their shelter. “Hopefully, we’re as out of sight as I think we are.”

“Do you wish for me to take the first watch?” offered Orisa, always anxious to do her part. “You and Bastion can attempt to catch a signal in the meantime.”

“Dweet dweet!”

“Perhaps just for a few hours, dear. Don’t forget, you need your rest too,” the monk reminded, often maintaining a protectiveness over her that she couldn’t help but feel gratitude for.

It was nice to know there were those who would keep her safe while she did her best to do the same for them.

A calm settled over them then, a tranquil sort of quiet. All three of them had their tasks, with no threats to speak of. Enjoying the sounds of the twilight, the youngest omnic gazed out into the hazy sky, challenging herself to spot the stars through the clouds and to pinpoint which animals could be heard. Next to her, Bastion and Zenyatta worked tirelessly, murmuring and chirping amongst themselves in the darkness.

They were three omnics, so very different, on the most unforgiving continent. When it came down to it, however, they knew they had each other. As long as they were together, it was hard to be afraid.


	2. Zendatta (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Turns out there was a lot more going on between Zenyatta and Mondatta than met the eye.

“Oh Iris...”

The other omnic’s heated moan set him shuddering. It wasn’t often that they engaged in such activities, especially in the open like this. Yet, he could only hope they had chosen a secretive enough location. He knew they couldn’t have waited any longer, hardly able to keep their hands off each other, possessively fondling wires as they scrambled to undo each other’s robes.

Despite everything, Mondatta couldn’t help but consider the risk well worth it. After all, there was nothing quite like what they were now experiencing together. Synthetic voices hitching with both effort and an overload of sensation, they melded together as one being so perfectly. The eldest’s silicon length slid in and out of the smaller omnic’s slick valve like a dream, fitting seamlessly as if they were meant to be.

Even in the middle of the night, the pair fought to keep their noises contained, fearing the sound would carry. Zenyatta, understandably, was having the most trouble. He made a valiant effort nonetheless, even as he was taken against the cold wall by his dearest one, their robes hastily pulled aside at the most in their eagerness.

“Zenyatta...you feel...so good around me...” groaned the Shambali leader into the auricular nodes of his trembling student as he clung to him for dear life, his legs hooked around his waist. His suggestive comment drew flustered chirps from his lover, music to his nodes. “Shh, dearest. You...you must contain yourself. You...wouldn’t want to be caught.”

A shaky chuckle, followed by a quiet moan, left Zenyatta then. “You mean...you wouldn’t...want to be. Having an affair...with one of your...subordinate monks,” he remarked, his metaphorical tongue still sharp, even in the throes of passion. His words, however, were lost as he threw his head back in bliss when his master intensified his thrusts, angling them just right to reduce him to needy whimpers and pleas. “Aaaa, please...Mondatta...Deeper. I need you...I need you deeper...”

“Such a sweet thing...” Mondatta murmured, practically purring to the younger omnic. It took all he had to keep his voice steady as he coupled with him, holding him firm as he bucked his hips in a constant, harmonious rhythm. “You...you try me, my dear. You know...you are so much...so much to me.”

“Mondatta...” was all Zenyatta could whine, tightening his grip around his neck as he leaned as close as he could manage, desperate for more of him. “Aaa...Oh Iris, oh Iris. So...so good. You feel so good...so good inside me...”

Lost in the waves of pleasure and endless affection, the head monk could only bury his face plate in the crook of the other’s arched neck. “I’m yours, Zenyatta. I’m yours,” he panted, bordering on possessive, so enamored with the soul in his arms. He couldn’t imagine loving anyone else, making love to anyone else. “I love...I love you, dearest.”

Every circuit, every node, was singing of their ecstasy. Again and again, Mondatta penetrated Zenyatta, piercing him deep, feeling his inner walls tremble and squeeze around him as he tantalized the tiny sensors nestled within. He knew well by now what made him sing and keen, and was more than happy to do just that. It was, after all, one of the most beautiful things he had ever beheld. And he would do so again and again, as long as the younger willed it.

With a wail, his student clenched around him, almost in abandon. “So...so close...Mon... Mondatta, _please_!” he virtually babbled, desperately meeting his thrusts, clumsy in it. “I’m yours. Please...I love you...so much...Mondatta, _please_! Please! Mmmn!”

Reaching his breaking point, the eldest pinned his lover against the wall, thrusting into his dripping valve with determination to bring them both to their highest peak. “Zen...Zenyatta! Oh Iris...I...Oh Iris! I’m...almost...Ngh!”

For a fleeting moment, he feared he would damage his fellow monk’s hips, driving into him with such recklessness and desperation. Concerns of being heard were far from their minds now, as their cries reached a fever pitch, their orgasms at last blossoming within them. Moving as one, they rode it out, shuddering together as they clung to each other, knowing nothing but each other’s name.

Then the light and their pleasure died down. In their place, the monks were left trembling against the stone, still entangled, their sensors struggling to reboot. Even without them, they were drawn to each other, nuzzling and exchanging small, tender kisses, consoling the other through their recovery. Regretfully, they separated, slowly, carefully, knowing all too well they couldn’t stay like this without being caught in the act.

“Are...are you alright, Zenyatta?” Mondatta managed, framing his dearest’s face in his hands as he leaned against the wall, his legs still like jelly.

“Mhmm...” he groaned, still drunk from the pleasure. “...I will be. Carry me?”

This time, it was the head monk who was left chuckling. “As long as you promise me you’ll stay awake long enough to make it to our room.”

Clumsily, the youngster fixed his robe, noting how they’ll both need to change, preferably together. “And why should I do that?” he teased, allowing himself to purposely stumble into his teacher, who caught him soundly, holding him close.

“Cuddles. Lots of them.”

“How...wonderful. You still have to carry me though.”

“...I love you.”


	3. Doomyatta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An omnic and Doomfist meet at a coffee shop. Innocent enough, right?

“It’s wonderful that you could make it.”

“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss this for the end of the world.”

Zenyatta supposed he should’ve been at least a bit more intimidated by the muscular and broad-shouldered Nigerian who settled across from him. After all, he was one of the prominent leaders of the terrorist organization his own called enemy. Yet, on this pleasant chilly September evening, he was no more than a favored acquaintance, dressed as casually as he was.

No armor. No weapons. No talk of missions or rivalries. It was just them, and the coffee shop they had chosen.

With poise, Akande made himself at home in the study wooden chair, crossing one powerful leg over his thigh. Every movement made his abs all the more visible under the straining fabric of his light red muscle shirt, so much so that the monk had to contain himself from staring outright. He settled for an unneeded gulp, an attempt to focus his attention on the face of the man in question.

“Are you staring, monk?” the larger man asked with a hint of amusement, quirking an eyebrow as he crossed his arms against his chest. “Is this better?”

“A little...” the omnic admitted quietly, an answer to both questions. “My apologies. It’s easy to forget. Your strength is...very impressive. As is everything else about you.”

He was flashed a bright smile. “You flatter me, omnic. I could say the same about you, a spiritual warrior in your own right. You don’t need sheer strength to be worthy, both on the battlefield and off.”

Akande’s compliment threatened to overheat his systems, just a little. It was true he hadn’t been around to meet him before he was sent to prison. Though, he was glad he had gotten the chance to this time around. He was a truly fascinating and alluring man.

It was a shame they worked on opposite sides of the chess board, one dark and the other light; though Zenyatta knew it was all about perspective.

“Cinnamon dolce coffee for Akande!” the barista called, placing his coffee out on the counter.

Refined by nature, the Nigerian raised a large hand. “Here, if you would,” he called, his voice firm yet gentle, heard easily over the bustle around them.

“Yes, sir!”

“My thanks.”

Tickled, Zenyatta tilted his head. “Cinnamon dolce? An interesting name,” he commented thoughtfully. “...Sounds...like a dessert.”

Carefully, the man raised his cup halfway to his lips. “How keen for an omnic. I admit, I have a bit of a sweet tooth, so I’ve always found this flavor a perfect match.”

Intrigued, he rested his chin in his hand. “I take it you are enjoying the free life once again. I cannot honestly condone your actions, but...what’s done is done, is it not?”

The other hummed then, considering. “Indeed. It is a new world out there. So much has changed,” he answered after a long sip of his coffee, his intense eyes holding his optics from over the rim. “I met you, for one. And for that, I am glad.”

“...The feeling is mutual. It’s a shame we do not work for the same people.”

That seemed to make Akande pause, strangely so. His gaze appeared to burrow into his very soul, prying, searching. With little warning, he unfolded himself from his seat.

“I’m afraid I can’t stay.”

Zenyatta stiffened, straightening his posture in alarm. “Why not? Was it something I said?” he inquired, unable to help the dismay that he may have upset him.

“That is not important,” he muttered, gathering his belongings. He placed his briefcase on the table between them, looking for something within. “Here, Zenyatta. I brought this for you. A token, a thank you for your time. Perhaps we can do it again someday soon. But, for now, I have business to tend to.”

“Oh,” was all the monk could manage, being presented with a white flower, a gardenia if he recalled correctly. It was a statement of loveliness, of a secret love. It stalled him briefly with bashful realization. “...I...Thank you, Akande.”

A parting kiss, gentle and loving, to his forehead sealed his farewell. “Until next time, monk.”

Zenyatta couldn’t help but wonder what exactly he was getting himself into, but he knew he was hooked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still can't believe I wrote all these in the span of 24 hours. I still have a last, secret part coming up, which is a lot longer than these. Hopefully I can finish it in a timely manner.


End file.
